Havoc (Dred Chronicles 2)

Something about that kid gives me the creeps.

Dred vaulted onto the seat of the scrap-metal throne and signaled to Vix, who thumped on a man’s shoulders until he delivered her—and the rifle—to the Dread Queen. The other woman slid down, evidently sensing that her moment had passed. Dred turned the gun over in her hands; Jael came up to stand at her shoulder with a military posture, inspecting it along with her. Automatic sighting, improved heat flow, larger battery pack to expand firing capacity. The rifle was a definite improvement from what had been on the market when he was a merc, forty turns or so ago now.

“We weren’t sure how effective our weapons would be against their armor, but this is top-of-the-line,” Dred called out. “And this is only the first of many victories. Now we just need to pick them off.”

It would obviously be a lot tougher than that, but with those words, she put heart back into worried men. As she lifted the rifle, they raised their arms, and shouted, “Dread Queen, Dread Queen!”

That ought to hold them for a little while. But he knew better than anyone how fast human beings could turn.

7

Adapt or Die

As the celebration continued, Dred dragged Jael to her quarters. He might think she didn’t pay attention to the details, but it was obvious from the way he moved that he wasn’t all right. Once inside, she was surprised to find that Tam and Martine had relocated. Hopefully that means he’s a little better. But more likely, the spymaster had felt uncomfortable lounging in her private space. He had very regimented notions about what was proper, as if she really were royalty. That opened the door to all sorts of questions.

“Shirt off,” she snapped.

“This is so sudden. I feel like we should cement our emotional bond first. Or perhaps you should offer a bride price for me?”

He was so ridiculous that she had to smile. Jael was the only one who could dig beneath the impenetrable mask she showed the rest of Queensland. She tapped her foot. “You were wounded back there. Let me see.”

“Fine. But only because you said please so sweetly.”

He pulled off the ragged shirt and showed her his back. She sucked in a sharp breath at the black, puckered skin in the center of his back. Mentally, she tabulated how long it had been since he had been shot. “Shouldn’t it look . . . better than this by now?”

“I can’t see, can I, love?” It was a blithe, slick reply.

As she inspected the wound, the mass of it shrunk infinitesimally. “It’s healing, but . . . not like you normally do.”

“I had noticed,” he said dryly. “There’s still plenty of pain.”

That troubled her. He’d just about emptied his veins in saving her life; though normally a primitive transfusion wouldn’t work, Jael had unusual healing abilities, acquired as part of his Bred heritage. Since then, neither of their bodies had been quite the same.

“This might seem like an odd question, but . . . what you did for me, have you ever done that for anyone else?”

He laughed. “I don’t put out for just anyone, love.”

“Don’t flirt with me. This is serious.”

“From my perspective, it just means I’m a few steps closer to normal.”

“Normal people die in here,” she said softly.

“Would that trouble you?”

A fist clamped around her heart. She didn’t want to feel things, let alone admit them. So Dred squared her expression and offered him the same coin. “Obviously, it would. Where would I be without my secret weapon?”

To her relief, he didn’t show disappointment in the pragmatic response. “Shoved down the chute, I reckon.”

“You got that right. We’re going to try an experiment.”

“Does this mean you’re taking your top off, too?”

“Not at the moment.” Dred got out a slim blade that she kept in her boot and drew a line down her arm before he could stop her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Blood welled up from the thin cut; it wasn’t deep, so he was definitely overreacting. She said nothing. Instead, she counted in her head until the skin sealed, then she wiped away the red with her fingertips and offered him the blade. “Your turn.”

“No offense, queenie, but this isn’t my sort of thing. If this is what you want, you’d be better off with Tam.”

“Did you want me to do it?” she asked softly.

His blue gaze burned into hers. “Be gentle with me.”

“I’ll do my best.” She sliced with the same delicacy she’d employed before, then she counted off, watching his forearm the whole time. It was slow enough that she couldn’t see the incremental improvements. When the wound closed, she shut her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Not sure what it means,” she said, meeting his gaze, “but our healing rates are the same. I compared the seconds.”

He actually took a step back. “I thought the side effects would fade.”

“They don’t seem to be,” she said.

“You think by . . . saving you, I also gave away half of my ability?”

“Possibly. And I don’t think I can give it back.”

“I wouldn’t let you bleed out for me anyway, love. You probably wouldn’t fall into a coma. You’d just die.”

“That’s one exit strategy.” Her voice was low.

“I didn’t fight so hard for you to give up now. It’s better there are two of us anyway. We can do impossible things together.”

“Is that how you see this playing out?”

“I write my own ticket, always have. People don’t tell me how things end. I prefer to determine it for myself.” He shrugged back into his shirt. “And if it takes a day or two instead of hours to wipe this burn away, I can live with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to.” She wanted to wrap her arms around him and dig her hands into his pale hair.

But she squelched those instincts even as his emotions seeped into her consciousness. Before her arrest, she’d only picked up darker impulses, nothing clean or bright, but incarceration had given her time to perfect and expand on what genetics had bestowed. Dred wasn’t trying to read him, but he was feeling something so strong, some memory, that it filled her head like a tsunami of blue. So much regret and sorrow, so much pain. It wasn’t like guilt, but lonelier. If she let herself, she could drown in it. Jael was like the dark water at the bottom of the deepest cave, where light had never shone. The other prisoners didn’t know she was Psi, and that was just as well. They’d riot in a heartbeat if they thought she was messing with their minds.